


I Swear, I Promise: The Rework

by MissyLeyneous



Category: Original Work, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: I Swear I Promise, Tags under construction, rework
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyLeyneous/pseuds/MissyLeyneous
Summary: Back at this again, for funzies.(I don't recommend reading this work unless you've played Undertale, or watched a Let's Play of Undertale.)





	1. A Slice of Existential Crisis

Very rarely do we experience moments in life that feel like death. 

Not like dying, but just a small, personal sort of death that marks a specific moment in time where we leave a version of ourselves in the past and become someone new. Sometimes, the change within ourselves is invisible to any outside perspective.

Sometimes, the moment occurs with pie. 

And unfortunately for Claire Vincent, the breakdown occurs while choking on said pie. Clasping her mouth with her hands to keep from spitting the desert everywhere, she lowered her head and fought to keep her frightened cries to a minimum. This was a practice she was used to, but it didn't make it any easier to accomplish.

Her body was riveted in place at the dinner table, and she could barely hear Toriel's soft, mournful voice trying to soothe her. In the deepest recesses of her mind, there were quiet reminders flitting between her ears. She knew, for instance, that she was just experiencing a massive amount of trauma, but it would pass. She also knew that she would never be the same. That nothing would ever be the same.

The events of the last few weeks filtered back through her mind in those moments, as choking breaths gave way to full on sobbing. She had finally escaped from the base! She'd left K.I.L.N. far behind her weeks ago, seizing her one and possibly only chance to escape with her sheath. Of course, she'd already explained all of this to Toriel just moments ago; About her bonded contract with the weapon that she keeps at her side, about fleeing into the mountains, hiding down in these caves, and being attacked by a strange dandelion-like plant creature.

And for the first time in years, (nearly a decade perhaps) she was happy. Claire had never felt quite so free, so liberated. Now she felt panicked, yet guilty, yet angry. A mixture of unpleasant emotions wrapped around her heart and squeezed tightly, making it feel difficult to breath properly. A twinge of embarrassment was there too, when she became aware that her nose was beginning to run. Sniffling, she quickly brought up the collar of her pajama shirt to her face and held it there to stem the flow of liquid, but didn't bring it back down, yet. She wanted to hide here for just a little while longer, with the taste of cinnamon and butterscotch mingling with the coppery taste of blood from biting her cheek.

Now that she was here, she was trapped. Again.

Muffled, her voice broke, and unbidden, her rage spiked. "It's not fair!" Claire started to rise from the chair, eyes suddenly wide with anger, but a paw reached over and forced her back down with surprising strength. Desperate rage welled up inside of her, which must have been clearly visible to the tall, snow white monster. 

"Do not assume that I am the one holding you here. You are free to leave my home at any time. Please allow me to explain myself." Claire stared defiantly up into Toriel's dark eyes, and saw something disarmingly pained in them that snuffed out her anger like a candle in the breeze. Feeling numb, she plopped back down into her chair and slumped there.

"This place is called the Ruins." Toriel recited softly, and as she spoke it seemed like if she was reading from a script, as if this had all happened before. As Claire slowly began eating again, Toriel spoke of a legend about Monsters, and how they had lost a great war with the Humans, who sealed them all in this mountain with a magical barrier. "Souls can come here through the barrier... but no one can leave. We have all been trapped down here for a long time."

This, among everything else that had been happening to her lately, was a lot to take in. According to the history books Claire had read, it had been estimated that, thousands of years ago, humans had access to magical technologies, but fragments of that knowledge were few and far between. Humanity had just begun new research into magic several decades ago. Lost in thought, she jumped when Toriel asked who she was.

"Oh." Things had happened so quickly since she woke up from being knocked out by, and saved from, the plant monster from before that she'd totally forgotten to introduce herself. 

"My name is Claire Vincent." She felt awkward. Normally, her elders would introduce her and she could just stand quietly at someone's side. This experience was new and strange, too. "Well, um... I'm not actually a child, you know?" Toriel nodded. "I'm 20... I'll turn 21 in about a month from now. I don't actually know what day it is..." 

She couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted to impress Toriel. It was a most unusual feeling, because she had spent most of her later years hiding her accomplishments from her elders in the hope that they would hold her back, and that she wouldn't become what they wanted her to be; the thing she was born to be. She coughed up a small, bitter laugh, but quickly continued.

"I'm from a place called King's Initiative Laboratory Network, or K.I.L.N., for short. They... made me." Toriel's brow furrowed in questioning, so Claire had to explain to her how humans were experimenting with lost magics -- what they called Eldritch Magic -- and how she was "born". The humans had acquired a piece of a "demon's" soul (which Claire knew now was most likely a piece of a monster soul) and had injected it into an infant. Claire's mother died in childbirth, and her father was a faceless donor. Shame weighed down on her as Toriel tried to hide her horror behind her paws.

"They get their funding from the military, so in order to fund the project they promised to turn me into a weapon called a SWORD. Er, a Sentient Weapon Or Restrained Demon, stupid acronym... That place was my prison, Toriel. They trained me to fight with all kinds of weapons and magic. They taught me science and history. It was my home for the longest time, but soon I grew old enough to understand the ramifications of my own existence. They came to fear me, and..."

She had betrayed them, the people that had raised her. But she couldn't really feel guilty for it, not after everything that had happened. She didn't ask for this life, after all.

"...and I ran away." She finished awkwardly. It wasn't the complete truth, but it was close enough that it would do. Small tears had beaded up in the corners of Toriel's eyes, and she brushed them away. 

"Oh, child... You are safe from those humans, here. I sincerely hope you can at least get some form of respite from that." Claire nodded, and the conversation drifted into different topics regarding her education, noting that her favorites were anatomy, magic, botany, and sword play. Toriel noted that she had always wanted to be a teacher, which somehow wasn't very surprising, given her personality.

Toriel glanced uneasily down to the sheath in Claire's lap at the topic of swordplay. "Do you mind if I ask you about that sword sheath you carry?" Claire's fingers curled instinctively around the leather bindings, where the object rested in her lap.

"It's uh..." A half-formed lie stuck in her throat, but guilt made her swallow it. She found that, unlike the Elders back at KILN, she just couldn't lie to Toriel. Not like this, at least. "I don't really want to talk about it... right now."

Toriel nodded, but her brow was furrowed, as if she was lost in thought. Claire interjected hesitantly. "Oh, by the way... Where are my clothes? I'd like to get dressed soon. These are nice, but-" Claire tugged at the pajamas with a look of disdain. "They're not exactly my style."

"Oh, of course," Toriel sighed absent-mindedly. "I have them washed and ready for you. Let me get them. You may come with me if you like." Claire gave a polite smile and nodded, wondering how long she had been asleep since her rescue. Somehow, this smile felt more genuine than any polite gesture she'd ever given before.

Just outside the front door to the home was a wash-bin and a clothes line, hung with Claire's garments. Dark, stained, and rough jeans, plain, black socks, basic black undergarments, and a black, crew-cut shirt with a complex Celtic triquetra knot emblazoned in silver on the front. She wore her favorite outfit the day she decided to escape, because she knew that it would be the only one that she could take with her. Draped on the far clothes line pole was her black suede jacket. It had a long tail that was frayed, zippered pockets on the front, and a pointed collar, but it was scuffed up pretty badly from the earlier assault. Her black, KILN-issued boots were nestled in a corner by the door with her black, studded belt complete with her trusty shivs. 

Wrapped in torn shirt materials and wire, the shivs were just the sharpened blades from a pair of child's scissors, complete with the blue plastic handles on the bottom. They were very essential to her escape plan, though thankfully she hadn't needed to use them on any errant soldier that got in her way. "You left these for me."

"Against my better judgement, yes. I did." She eyed Claire carefully.

Claire smiled gleefully back at her. "Oh, don't look so sour. You practically saved my life. There's no way I'd attack you, Toriel. I'm gonna go get dressed." She bundled up her things in her arms, intending to carry them inside to the kid's room, where she'd woken up, to change. Toriel giggled softly and patted Claire on the shoulder, but something about her demeanor implied that she was depressed. Something about that expression sparked an odd feeling of deja vu, which Claire shook off immediately, and dismissed as ridiculous.

Back in her own clothes, mended as if they'd never been torn from the recent fights she'd had, Claire felt much more at ease, like she was back in her own second skin. Her kukri sheath slid easily into place at her left hip, and her jacket fell around her shoulders. Her boots thudded across the floor, confidence in her step as she left the room rejoin Toriel in the dining room.

This time, she felt more at peace. A little more complete than she had been just an hour ago. The room was sleepily warm. A fire crackled and spit in the fireplace; but, upon a second look, Claire noted that there wasn't any wood in the fire. An arrangement of other-worldly blue flowers let off a subtle perfume from the center of the table. The bookshelf and a large sofa-chair were the only other two furnishings in the room: both looked old and worn, and the books were all hardbound and smelled of yellowing paper.

"Oh, my child, your hair is such a mess. Let me comb it for you." She procured a comb from a small side-table beside the sofa-chair.

"Uh, Toriel, I can--" She shushed and insisted, turning Claire around gently with her paws so that she could detangle her hair.

"Ow... ow... ow..." Claire winced and muttered under her breath, but soon her hair was tangle-free. Toriel could part it with ease down the center and let it fall down past her shoulders, though the part in the strands wouldn't stay symmetrical for long, always favoring one side. 'This must be what it feels like... to have a mom.' Trying to quell the burning sensation that welled up in her lungs and failing, Claire's voice cracked when she spoke again. She asked Toriel when she could meet the other people: the other Monsters. After all, if they were half as nice or interesting as Toriel, she wanted to meet them, eventually.

"Oh, well, you see... It's difficult to..." She closed her eyes and set the comb down on the table. When she opened them, her eyes were filled with pain. "I have to go do something. Please excuse me. Stay here." As soon as Toriel had left her sight, Claire found it incredibly difficult to stay still. She huffed through her nose, perplexed as to what could be wrong, but intent on finding out. 

Claire was terrible at following orders.


	2. Toriel Blocks the Way

As soon as Toriel rounded the stairs down, Claire was immediately behind her. She had noticed these stairs before but hadn't paid them much mind, assuming they just led to a basement or another floor. A tunnel stretched out ahead, leading into darkness, but a torch was moving ahead of her. She followed the torch, and discovered it was Toriel holding a floating ball of fire as a light source. She looked back and glared at Claire fiercely.

"Go back upstairs, small one. I must stop this once and for all!" A ball of flame rocketed forward and sparked against the ground at Claire's feet, making her jump, but only strengthened her resolve to chase after Toriel.

The tall monster was surprisingly quick, and Claire had to run to catch up with her. She looked up to a huge door emblazoned with the same runic symbol that Toriel wore on her gown. The symbol seemed so familiar, yet she was sure she hadn't seen it before.

Toriel wouldn't face Claire this time when she spoke, "Please, go back. If you leave here, they will... Asgore will kill you."

"Toriel, please tell me what's going on. I deserve as much." Toriel's expression was grimaced when she finally turned to face Claire, but she drew in a quick breath and spoke sharply, as if short on time and in a hurry to be somewhere, or do something.

"Fine. I am the Matron of the Ruins. I left New Home to guard this place to keep humans from wandering to their dooms. Asgore is collecting their souls, but he can do nothing to anyone under my care, and in my territory. He intends to use the souls to break the barrier. I have seen it time and time again. Humans come, they leave, they die." Again, tears welled up in her eyes. "Small one... Claire. Please do not make the same mistake, I cannot bear to lose another."

Despite the warning, it was like a weight had been lifted from Claire's shoulders. She actually giggled. It was a warm, nervous laugh, but it confused Toriel all the same. 

"Toriel. Please don't fear for me. I can protect myself."

To which the Matron snorted, conjuring more fire. "You naive child, you--"

Claire closed her left eye in a slow wink, and her right eye darkened. The blackness spread from the pupil to coat the entire eye, turning it jet. A black aura pulsed around one of her hands, its tendrils wrapping up around her arm as she held it up to the firelight. "Toriel... Humans feared me, and they called me a Witch. They called me: Claire Vincent the Draconic. I am more than capable of protecting myself." She closed her open eye and clenched her fist, and the aura receded. When she opened both her eyes they were normal again. Toriel appeared unimpressed, exasperated, and tired.

Claire continued, finally feeling like she could think clearly for the first time in days. "I've... never made a promise before. To anyone, for anything... But I promise you this, now, Toriel." She had no idea what sort of feelings pushed her to do and say these things now, but the emotion was so strong, it nearly had a mind of its own. She felt determined to do this. "Whatever causes you this pain... if it needs fixing, I will fix it... And, if it needs breaking, I will break it."

"Oh, child." Toriel's stubborn resolve broke, nearly bringing her to tears. The flames that flickered around her went out one by one, as if they too were losing the will to stand in Claire's path. 

"Please do not make promises you cannot keep." And, with that, she strode slowly up to her and gave Claire a warm, squeezing hug, hesitating before pulling back. Toriel started to walk away, and without looking back, she added, "I truly hope... that you can find your way." Her powerful voice was broken with emotion, and it was almost too much for Claire's heart to bear. 

She'd had a mother for the better part of a day, and already she'd broken her heart.

For the second time today, Claire stuffed back a sob. She was going to have to find some time alone, and soon, to just get it out. But for now, bottling it up seemed like the better option. The doors had no handles, so she pushed, and it came open rather easily and silently. A gentle breeze sucked through the corridor, as though pushing her forward. She stepped to the other side to another corridor with a similar door on the far end. The doors shut behind her on their own, but she didn't question it, too interested in (and nervous about) what lay ahead. She could see her breath in front of her face now, illuminated by a faint light through a crack in the doors. As she walked it got colder, until she could no longer hold back a shiver. Claire pushed on the second set of doors...

And tripped into snow.


End file.
